The Price of the Score
by OhFonverse
Summary: Van confronts Mohs about harassing Tear; and as a result Mohs must atone for his actions. Van x Mohs crack lemon fic, MATURE CONTENT for yaoi,the Score, rape, fat!Mohs, and evil goatees. Spoilers for second half of the game. Mohs needs his own label, IMO.


**The Price of the Score**

**A/N: **

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is a pairing that has been waiting to be written since the release of the game, so do not be shocked. I strive to explain exactly how our darling Grand Maestro Mohs metamorphosed into Fat (AKA sexy) Mohs.

Also, I don't own Tales of the Abyss or any of its characters, as much as I'd like to. R&R onegaishimasu!

_Grab them saddlebags and_

_Toss em over me_

_Let's ride all night_

_This lady got the thickness_

_Can I get a witness_

_This lovely lady got the thickness_

_Can I get a Hell Yeah_

_Booty big and delicious_

_Shake it like she's fearless_

_This lovely lady got the thickness_

_Can I get a Hell Yeah_

_-__**Puscifer, "Queen Bee"**_

"Grand Maestro, we need to talk."

Mohs' head snapped up from the book he was reading, and he quickly stashed it into his desk as Commandant Van Grants entered his study. Mohs had a habit of perusing all of the forbidden texts that the Order of Lorelei had confiscated over the years, and this particular one had been forbidden for a _very _good reason.

"C-Commandant! To what do I owe this honor?" Mohs was nervous; not because Van was dangerously powerful, and not because it was known that Van strongly opposed the Score but…

Van's deep, powerful voice brought his thoughts to a halt. "Save the pleasantries, Grand Maestro." Van scowled at Mohs' desk, where he had seen the Grand Maestro hide a book; a forbidden text, no doubt. "I come here on behalf of my sister." Van's blue eyes were as cold as ice, under bushy but flawlessly sculpted eyebrows, as they regarded the Grand Maestro.

Mohs' stomach leaped into his throat at the mention of Van's sister, but Mohs gripped his desk and attempted to maintain calm, or at least _appear_ unaffected. "Mystearica? What about her?" Mohs asked, feigning ignorance. Mind racing, Mohs began looking for possible exits in the room should this encounter suddenly go _very _badly. Much to his dismay, the only exit was the one blocked by the powerful seventh fonist's commanding presence.

"Tear told me that you had tried to…touch her in an inappropriate and very un-professional manner on her first job out of training school." Van crossed his arms and glowered at Mohs. "Your antics are known throughout the Order, and I have turned a blind eye until now. However," Van closed his eyes, "you know how much Tear means to me, and how…" Van opened his eyes again to glare at Mohs , as he slammed his hand loudly onto his desk "…_how_ could you be stupid enough to try and compromise my sister?!"

Dumbfounded, Mohs began to desperately search for excuses within his small mind, but what squeaked out was, "I only did what was written in the Score!"

Van's facial expression was rigid, except for his goatee, which nearly seemed to _quiver _with anger. "Yes, the…Score." He sighed, stroking his beard. "I see. You're going to have to do _a lot_ better than that Grand Maestro, or I'm going to have to notify both the Fon Master and Yulia City…"

"No!" Mohs pulled open a drawer in his desk and began to frantically search its contents. "I have proof…I swear….a rubbing of the Fonstone." Mohs heaved a sigh of relief when his search produced a small, yellowed slip of paper. "This! Here!" Mohs handed it exuberantly to the Commandant, hoping for the best.

Van's eyes narrowed has he read the piece of paper, until he looked up again at the Grand Maestro with an even icier stare. "I can see that this is indeed one of Tear's readings. However, look…" Van leaned over Mohs' desk and began to point at a specific part of the reading, about halfway down. "Several words are crossed out, so that it reads 'your googlies will be touched by a faithful Warrior of Yulia." Van turned the paper upside down, and squinted at its contents. "It looks to me that 'googlies' replaced 'spirit' and…." Van sighed and shook his head. "This is a fake, Grand Maestro."

"I..I" stammered the older man. Mohs was at a loss for words. Why, why _why _had he bothered with Tear Grants, of all people? Here it was, biting him in his Yulia-forsaken ass nearly a year after the incident, and all for some shameless googlies groping! Perhaps it was because that, even with all of the young women at his…disposal, Tear had _by far_ the nicest googlies. A religious man of his standing was _so _terribly undersexed; Mohs felt these sorts of situations should really be understood within the Order as a natural part of things…

"The Score was not clear Commandant; I only translated it into a way that Mystearica would understand." Mohs was gripping at straws now, inwardly panicking, realizing his entire future was now at stake, and in the hands of Commandant Grants.

The blank stare Mohs received in response was all that he needed to realize that this battle was lost. Now was the time to throw away any semblance of personal pride. "Commandant, _please_ do not tell the Fon Master!" Mohs pleaded, falling to his knees. " He trusts and needs me…" (_and I need his tight ass_) "…and I will do anything to rectify this situation!"

Van smirked, stroking his beard playfully. "_Anything_, Grand Maestro?" He smiled, and his teeth actually _gleamed_ from the whiteness, much to Mohs' irritation.

Gazing up at the Commandant, the Grand Maestro could see that atoning for his sins in the eyes of Van Grants was going to be a high price to pay, indeed. His hands began to tremble as he lowered his eyes. "Anything Commandant…I mean it."

Van's smirk broadened cruelly, and in one long stride he stood over Mohs. "Well then," Van said quietly, almost to himself. His right hand shot down towards Mohs, quick as lightning, and grabbed the collar of his robe. Van hoisted Mohs to his feet, and before Mohs could protest or even properly grasp the nature of the Commandant's actions, Van had smashed his lips against his and had him locked in a passionate kiss. Mohs stifled his urge to struggle, not expecting this turn of events and not knowing what to do.

Van's tongue forced itself into Mohs' mouth, claiming it as his territory, while a powerful hand pushed him back onto the desk. Realizing that this exchange was to be his atonement, Mohs complied and began to kiss back the Commandant.

He had to admit to himself that something about Vandeselca Musto Fende was exhilarating: perhaps it was his voice, which he had heard skillfully raised in song, or the way that his eyebrows and beard roughly complemented his fine facial features, or maybe even the infectious charisma that resulted in the blind adoration with which all of the God-Generals barring Dist had for him. Perhaps it was this intoxicating kiss, or the musky smell of Van's cologne that he was now just noticing. Whatever it was, Mohs was now resigned to the fact that maybe this was to be a very rewarding "atonement".

Van was not going to waste any time, if anything he had always been shrewd and efficient. He ripped off the Grand Maestro's robe with his sword hand while the other began to caress the older man's soft, supple body. Mohs was a man of comforts, and it showed in the way that his fat became pliable dough under the skilled hands of the Commandant. While his tongue remained busy ravaging the maestro's mouth, Van's rough, callused hands moved up to Mohs' chest where they stopped at his nipples, caressing and squeezing them.

"Mmm", Van cooed, stopping the kiss for a brief moment "I see that someone has googlies of his own." Flushing, Mohs attempted to respond, but was interrupted by Van roughly resuming the kiss.

Mohs' robe fell to the floor, and then his Grand Maestro hat, which Van knocked off of his head with the back of his hand. Van's other hand continued to knead into his flabby flesh, traveling consistently downwards as he began to nibble at Mohs' neck.

His hand stopped at Mohs' fully erect member, and gave it a squeeze, which caused the Grand Maestro to gasp. "Oh, Lorelei!" Van began to smirk as he observed Mohs' apparent arousal.

"Well, what would you call _this_ on the Mohs Hardness Scale?" Van asked, giving the Grand Maestro's crotch another squeeze. He chuckled, and Mohs stared dumbfounded as the Commandant removed a large band of blue beads from his pocket. "This is going to make things _so_ much more exciting," he explained.

The Grand Maestro eyed the beads warily, sensing something strange about them, but he was not given time to protest. "Turn around, _now_," Van commanded, seizing one of Mohs' arms and holding it behind his back. Mohs cried out in pain, but it was nothing compared to the subsequent pain he felt as he was slammed face first into the desk as his undergarments were torn from his body. Without any prompting or warning whatsoever, Van shoved the beads painfully into Mohs' anus.

"What…what are you doing?!" gasped Mohs, which prompted a hard blow in the back of the head from the younger man.

"Relax…" crooned Van, bringing his face close to the Grand Maestro's so that his beard tickled his cheek. "Focus on your prostate…yes..just like that," he breathed into his ear.

There was a sound of more ripping cloth, a grunt from Van, and suddenly Mohs was feeling blinding pain as he had never felt before. "Take this! Lightning Tiger Blade!" Van exclaimed, as he forced his way into Mohs, impaling the Grand Maestro's rectum on his sex. Mohs realized right away that something was wrong, very wrong.

"The...the seventh fonon?!" Mohs managed to squeak, in between Van's violent thrusts. Mohs was not a seventh fonist himself, but he could _sense_ the fonon of sound, now vibrating its way through the Grand Maestro's anal cavity by way of Van Grants' manhood. He had to admit, however, that this had quite a pleasing effect as it pleasantly stimulated his prostate with rhythmic vibrations. Giving into his own arousal and pleasure despite the pounding his anus was receiving, Mohs could not help but harbor the suspicion that something was not quite right.

To assuage his fears, or perhaps to distract him, Van began pumping him with his free hand while the other continued to mold the cellulite on Mohs' wide and generous ass. The Commandant began to grunt with his own pleasure, and his hands moved upwards to grab at the Grand Maestro's soft and supple googlies, stimulating and hardening their large, brown nipples.

Mohs' suspicions were affirmed when he realized that his body had now been completely invaded by an extremely thick concentration of seventh fonons, that would no doubt kill him if this continued. "Van….stop…seventh fonons…dangerous," moaned the older man, despite himself.

This only elicited cold laughter from Van, who began thrusting even harder at the protest. Grabbing at Mohs' hair and panting heavily, he prepared his Mystic Arte. "Such lamentation! Hyaaaah! Celestial Elegy!" The accompanying burst of seventh fonons from Van's massive, throbbing saber of love knocked Mohs unconscious.

Mohs' eyelids fluttered open seconds or hours later, he did not know. However, he realized that now the Commandant had him straddled on the ground, and had resumed his pillage of the Grand Maestro's tender anus. Upon seeing him finally come into consciousness, the younger man smirked, this lips curling upwards into a cruel smile.

"I'm glad to finally see you with me," he nearly _sang_, locking Mohs into another passionate kiss. Van's hand caressed Mohs' oversized stomach, which was ridden with coarse, black body hair. His hand traveled downwards, to Mohs' rectum, where he tugged playfully at the beads he had so violently shoved into him earlier. Mohs felt a cold shiver travel down his spine as he now fully realized their terrible purpose….

"Hyper-resonance device….why, Van?"

Van's body was grinding rhythmically above his, the taut muscles slicked with sweat, a steady stream of seventh fonons entering Mohs through the precursors of Van's final mystic arte. Smiling once more, Van brought his face close to his- close enough that the older man could feel Van's hot, steamy breath on his cheek.

Van whispered into his ear, his voice low and sultry, "Because I love you, Grand Maestro Mohs."

With that, Van gave an agonized yell, and cried out "Behold the power of Lorelei! Farewell! Ancient Requiem!" His seventh fonon infused seed exploded into Mohs' rectal cavity like a fonic bomb, snapping his head back onto the tile floor. Mohs hardly noticed when Van pulled out and removed the anal beads…

"What's happening to me!" explained Mohs, beginning to fail frantically. His body was metamorphosing before his eyes! First, his skin deepened from its pale, fleshy hue to a dark purple that covered his entire body. Next, his body itself actually thickened, losing shape as his bones, cartilage and internal organs were turned into seventh-fonon ridden jelly. Van's seed.

"W-w-w-hat h-h-av-ve you-you d-d-onne to me-e-e-e?!" wailed Mohs as he grew larger and even more amorphous. He could not believe this! His beautiful body, corrupted by a hyper-resonance and the seventh fonon! "Th-e sc-sc-sc-ore! Thi-this w-was n-not w-w-ri-ttenn in t-t-he sc-sc-score!"

Van's hand reached out to slowly caress Mohs' shapeless, grape gel-esque face. "The Score," he purred, his ice-cold blue eyes never leaving those of the Grand Maestro's, "is a giant piece of shit." He attempted to embrace Mohs, but realizing that he was now far too large and cumbersome to hug, opted to instead bury his face into Mohs' huge and pulsating jellybelly, inhaling deeply.

"I do this because I love you. To save you from the prison that is the Score."

And Mohs began to cry.


End file.
